Editor's Note:
These scenes represent a later edit to Coherent Super Stories Special
#1, and in the meta-fictional universe that's part of I'm just gonna call
this a retcon and say they were always part of the original file. I've also spliced it into the main story, but this file is for posting to rec.arts.comics.creative so people who just want to read the new stuff can do so.
http://www.eyrie.org/~dvandom/ASH/CSSS1 for the full story.
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Run-down motels had not changed in the time Cameron had been in The
Cave. They still had beds with dingy linens, loud air conditioners, and bathrooms of suspicious sanitation practices. About the only change Cameron noticed was that the televisions were thinner.
That was interesting, but not surprising. The technology was already on the market for computers before Benefactor's invasion. It only made sense
they were standard now. It would be nice to investigate one when he had a chance to look much, much closer at them.
The motel owners probably wouldn't appreciate him taking apart their television. Atop that, he doubted the agency in charge of The Cave, its prisoners, and their post-release travel would take kindly to an act of vandalism less than a day after his release. There would be time to get
caught up with all the changes in technology soon.
What he really needed was an old piece of technology.
Cameron sat down on the bed, picked up the telephone from the
nightstand, and froze in place. If he wanted to get home, he was going to
have to make a call. He had the motel for the night and a train ticket to Chicago for tomorrow. After that, his next moves...within the specifically laid out guidelines of his release...were up to him.
It was a bit overwhelming. For over a decade his choices were limited
to what he could do within a ten foot cube. Get up or sleep? Eat now or
wait until tomorrow? Build another imaginary robot or torture yourself thinking about a child he'd never met. This was a real choice. It had
real implications. It affected people that weren't himself.
If he called his attorneys, they could get to work now. By the time he arrived at Union Station they'd have a car, a change of clothes, and anything he needed waiting the moment he stepped off the train. From there he could
do anything.
If he dialed the ten digits burned into his memory, he wasn't sure what would happen. There was a small chance no one would answer, but most likely Jenny would. She'd mentioned a handful of times over the years her phone number hadn't changed. If she answered, she would insist on picking him up
and taking him home.
He wanted to call Jenny, but that was what he wanted. He wasn't sure it was what was best for her and Cammy. Uncertainty at this point felt
capricious after his gambit was the security bug, but failure at that point only affected him directly. Anything done to him was an acceptable loss, but he needed to be sure his next move didn't hurt those two.
In the years after Cammy's birth, Jenny never once missed their biweekly visits. That indicated to him, with high confidence, that she would accept
him back. Under most circumstances, that would be all he needed to make his decision, but Cammy was a largely unknown variable.
Cameron reached into the front pocket of the shirt he got during
release. Inside he found what he was looking for, a photograph. Over the years Jenny sent him a dozen pictures of Cammy. Up to his unauthorized, extended visitation with Cammy he kept them in his cell. Sometime between using the security bug and his release, all but one of the pictures went missing.
The one he saved only escaped the fate of the others because he always
had it with him. It might be in his sock or rolled up in his sleeve, but he held onto it with the fervor he associated with mages and their talismen.
The front of the photo was a picture of Jennifer. She looked worn out. There were dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was stringy from sweat.
She was smiling. Cradled in her arms, held next to her face, was a baby.
Their baby. On the back there were two lines of text. The first line was a name, "Cameryn June McKay." The second read, "She has your eyes."
As Cameron looked at the picture, he made his decision.
* * * *
Jennifer washed and Cammy dried. That was how it had been since Cammy
was old enough to stand on a stool and see above the sink. There were a few lost plates in the early days, but Jennifer knew it was a small price to pay
to instill a sense of responsibility into her daughter. It was also a nice
way to extend time spent together during their busy days.
As Cammy put the final dish up in the cabinet, Jennifer dried her hands. Jennifer was about to ask Cammy what her plans were for the evening when a phone started ringing. Based on the tone, Jennifer knew it was hers.
Jennifer reached across the counter to grab it from where it was charging.
"Wisconsin?" Jennifer asked aloud. "Who do I know in Wisconsin?" Cammy shrugged as Jennifer answered, "Hello, this is Jennifer McKay." There was no reply, even though she could hear the connection. "Hello?" she said again.
"Jenny," someone replied, "ah, hello."
The voice was eerily familiar, and there weren't many people who called her Jenny. In fact there was only one..."Cameron?" she said in disbelief.
Cammy looked up thinking it was her name being spoken. Jennifer shook
her head and pointed at the phone. After another pause the speaker answered quietly, "Yes."
Jennifer's mood shifted as she felt a mixture of anger, fear, and hope wash over her. She wanted it to be Cameron, feared it was some kind of sick prank, and that fear preemptively made her blood boil. She kept her voice
even but firm as she spoke, "If this is a joke, it's not funny."
"It's not a joke," the voice said, "I can prove it, ah, I think. In Nineteen Ninety-nine you sent me a photograph of you holding Cameryn. You
said she had my eyes."
It was Jennifer's turn to be silent. She knew that picture. She remembered her father going to get the disposable camera from the giftshop,
her mother fussing about not finishing the roll, and Anne happily using
getting the photos developed as an excuse to slip away and give the family
time with their newest addition.
There was still a chance this was a prank, but she was hard-pressed to think of anyone who would know about the picture and have this number, which was the home phone number her parents had years before she transferred the number to her cellphone. In fact she only kept that number so Cameron could call it if he ever needed to when he was released.
"Deedee?" she asked.
"They let me out," he told her. There was a pause, and he continued,
"I, ah, don't want to go into a lot of details, this isn't really a secure line, but, uh, I wanted you to be the first to know."
There was so much Jennifer wanted to ask, but Cameron...real or not...
was right. What she wanted to ask was best done in person, and not over the phone. "Are you coming home?" she asked.
"Barring any delay, I'll be arriving at Union Station tomorrow around
five PM," Cameron answered. "I was calling to see if..."
"We'll pick you up!" Jennifer said resolutely. Cammy stepped closer and raised her eyebrows, silently asking for clarification on who they were
picking up. Jennifer smiled at her and said, "Your dad's coming home."
* * * *
For her twelfth birthday, Cammy and her mom took a train to Detroit.
Cammy had originally wanted to take a trip to New York City, but after a bit
of negotiating they settled on the twelve hour round trip rather than fifty- three hours. In the end the destination wasn't the point, it was the
journey.
Getting to ride on a train...to feel as it sped up, slowed down, and tilted on the curves...having the chance to get a close look at the tracks
and trains as they boarded at each side...watching the scenery change with
her mom out the window as they left home, and watching familiar sights pass back by on the way home....
It was one of her favorite trips ever.
That trip was the first time Cammy saw the inside of Union Station.
Ever since she had tried to recapture the grandeur of its Great Hall with her bricks. There were a few times when she came close, but she always ran out
of pieces and ended up cannibalizing her attempt for something else. Staring up at the skylight again, she wished she were at home trying again.
She didn't feel the same sense of grandeur and adventure this time. In fact, as she sat on a wooden bench in The Great Hall, she felt a sense of nervous dread. Her mom told her not to be worried, but it wasn't that easy.
And it wasn't that she didn't want a dad. From everything she could
tell from watching her friends, Swetha and Marin, having two parents around
was nice. Swetha's dad was always getting her into video game betas, and Marin's brought her back the coolest gifts from his business trips. Plus, it distributed the load of parenting. Cammy's mom almost always seemed to be on the go. Sure, she stopped for dinner, her mom helped with homework, and they always had pizza night on Saturdays.
But there were nights when she and her mom had to go back to the museum
so she could finish some project. There were more weekdays than not when
they ate out because there were other chores to do...laundry, paying bills, last minute school projects...and her mom didn't want to cook.
And that was fine. Cammy had no complaints about her home life, but
maybe a second parent for her...a husband for her mom...would make life
easier. If that was a possibility, then she wanted to give Cameron every chance that she could.
But Cameron had been in jail. She knew what her mom said about him
being innocent, but he had killed someone. Plus, that was more than thirteen years ago. She'd been born and grown up since he went to jail. What if he changed for the worse? What if he joined some gang?
And that was why she couldn't just stop worrying. It wasn't as simple
as her mom made it out to be. She wanted everything to work out okay, but
she didn't know....
"I think that's him," Cammy's mom said suddenly. She pointed to a dark haired man coming from the Canal Street tunnel. Cammy saw who she meant. It looked like him, kind of. His hair was a bit shorter than her mom's old photos, but it looked like what she remembered from the video screen. He looked a bit stunned by everything. "Come on!"
Cammy followed as her mom started walking toward the man, her pace quickening with each step. Whatever trepidation might have slowed Cammy's approach, it was overridden by a desire to keep pace with her mother.
"Jenny?" the man said as he spotted the two of them. It was now undoubtedly Cameron Mckay, and Cammy's mom threw her arms around him. Cammy slowed and stopped just short. She knew what it looked like when her mom hugged someone. Her mom was a hugger. What was so completely alien that
Cammy wanted to look away was seeing her mom kiss someone on the mouth. That was new!
"I told you I'd wait a thousand years," Jennifer said just loud enough that Cammy could hear. The meaning was lost on her, but she assumed it was something sappy that adults said.
Cameron barely smiled as he replied, "You also told me not to make you wait that long."
They kissed again. Cammy wanted to make a retching sound to tease her mom, but it didn't feel right for some reason. There was a look in her mom's eye...the one Cammy could see from the side Cammy was on...that Cammy had
never seen and couldn't fathom mocking. She did try and get their attention
as they came up for air from the second kiss.
"Uh, hey," she mumbled. She gave a small wave. That was enough to get her mom's attention, and she transformed her hug into hand holding with
Cameron as she turned to face Cammy.
Jennifer was beaming, and there were the sparkles of tears in the corner of her eyes. She reached out with her free hand to take Cammy's. "I know
you two met a while back, but now I want to do this officially...Cammy, this
is your father, Cameron." She looked at Cameron. "Cameron, this is your daughter, Cammy."
Cammy did her best to smile as she said, "Welcome home."
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Author's notes:
These scenes take place between the last two in "Cameryn By Any Other Name." At the time I felt the transition worked well enough, but the more I looked at it, it felt something was missing.
Additionally, apologies to anyone more well-versed in Midwestern Amtrak travel than myself. The Crescent was my line of choice when I traveled. I
did some research to get a general idea of Union Station, but there's some
hand waving at play.
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